


Somewhere In The Middle

by devotchka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Breathplay, Consensual Non-Consent, Deepthroating, Dom/sub/Dom, Face-Sitting, Gun Kink, Impact Play, M/M, Polyamory, Rough Sex, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:01:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25142839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devotchka/pseuds/devotchka
Summary: Prompto and Gladio are in a relationship. Somehow, Ignis finds himself in it, too.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia/Prompto Argentum
Comments: 10
Kudos: 65





	1. Chapter 1

The first time it happens, Ignis can’t wrap his mind around it.

Prompto is in a relationship with Gladio. Gladio is currently watching the small blond as he sits in Ignis’s lap, and he’s saying something that sounds an awful lot like, “Go ahead. Kiss him.”

True, there had been some recent sexual tension. True, it was a _lot_ of it, if he was really being honest with himself. But he hadn’t exactly expected this – hadn’t expected to have Prompto climbing into his lap in some random motel room mere hours into their trip outside of Insomnia.

He also hadn’t expected how much he’d like feeling so out of control.

For once, he hesitates. Prompto does not. He leans in and kisses him, his arms wrapping around Ignis’s neck, his mouth pressing hard and urgent and full of need. Prompto is not quite as shy as Ignis always assumed.

“Tell me that you want this.” Prompto breathes, in between one kiss and another, and Ignis can’t confirm or deny it before their mouths are together again, Prompto’s tongue pressing at his lips, and he parts them for him obediently.

It’s consent enough in his opinion, but for the sake of it, when they pull away to breathe, he replies, “I want this. I want it so bad.”

“Told you.” Gladio finally chimes in, and Prompto smiles against Ignis’s lips.

Ignis doesn’t question anything. Prompto’s in his lap, throwing himself at him with Gladio’s permission, and Gladio is just…completely relaxed. He can logically assume this is something they’ve already discussed terms on, and something they trust each other enough to be doing.

Part of him wishes that Gladio were here touching him, too.

Prompto’s hips rock in his lap, grinding down on his half hard cock, and he’s moaning into Ignis’s mouth, pressing his whole body up against him. He is so needy, and so in control of Ignis either way. He’d give him anything right now.

Eventually, Prompto pushes Ignis down onto his back. He starts to pull at his own clothes, tugging his shirt off, and immediately slipping off his belt. “You’re really okay with this?” he asks, pausing only to look up at him.

Ignis feels his heart skip a beat. “Yeah.” He breathes.

Prompto smiles in that innocent way that he does, but this time, instead of some sweet, dumb remark, he replies, “I want to sit on your face while Gladio fucks you.”

Ignis just nods.

And then it really happens.

Prompto is featherlight above Ignis, sitting so that he’s facing Gladio, on display for the both of them. Ignis spreads him open and presses his tongue against his hole, dragging along it with a slow, unrushed pace, and Prompto immediately trembles for it. He moans shamelessly, and Ignis thinks he’s tipping his head back, his hands grasping the sheets at his sides.

Ignis focuses on making this good for him, naturally falling into that role he’s been born into — that of service submission — with comfortable ease, but something about it is different like this. Maybe it’s the physicality, he thinks. Or maybe it’s the persistent feeling of being out of his depth for once.

Judging by the sounds above him, he’s doing a fine job. He can hear Prompto panting, and he thinks — judging by the motions of his hand — that he’s getting himself off to this.

Ignis feels Gladio’s weight shifting on the bed, and he _aches_ to be touched.

Prompto does what he’s too occupied to, whimpering, moaning, “Gladio, please.”

Gladio parts Ignis’s legs and fits himself between them. Ignis feels him there, and he gives his consent again by rolling his hips down into him immediately, moaning under Prompto.

He lets them treat him like their toy, lets Gladio tug his pants down just far enough to prop his legs up over his shoulder and fuck him fast and hard.

Afterwards, laying in bed with them as if nothing unusual had happened just moments before, he admits that he likes how it feels to be helpless.

* * *

The second time it happens, Ignis still feels a little lost.

It’s just as unscheduled as the first time, which seems to be how Prompto does everything in his life, and it’s just as wild.

Prompto wants to see him suck Gladio’s dick, and Ignis has to admit that just the thought alone gets him excited.

Prompto _particularly_ wants to see this with Ignis’s hands tied behind his back.

Bless him, Ignis thinks, because there’s no other way he’d rather do it. They put him on his back with Gladio beside his head, his face turned to the side, and it’s going to be more of a throat fucking than anything else. He can’t complain.

Gladio is rough with him, grabbing a fistful of his hair as he guides the first few inches of his cock into his mouth. Ignis is more than willing to take it. He relaxes his throat as much as he possibly can and enjoys the ride.

Gladio’s cock is thick and long, and he feels like it barely fits before it’s even all the way in. That helpless feeling settles deep in him, and it makes him crave more, makes him want to spread his legs and be taken from.

Prompto is a problem solver in that area, too.

Eventually, Ignis feels him shift around in bed until he’s able to straddle his lap, and he can’t follow along with everything, but he definitely hears Prompto ask Gladio if he’s going to “use this”, and his hips are wiggling down where Ignis is hard and aching.

Ignis moans around Gladio’s cock. _Please_ , he thinks, _just use me_.

Prompto does. He is warm and soft and so tight inside, and between that feeling and the fullness in his throat and the sound of Gladio’s cock sliding in and out of his mouth Ignis is overwhelmed. The rough treatment grounds him; getting a break from calling all the shots grounds him. 

Here, Ignis doesn’t have to worry about perfection, or about constantly doing things right. Here, he’s just a toy, just something that has to _be_ and nothing else. 

Gladio reaches out for Prompto, who is still bouncing up and down in Ignis’s lap, and he pulls his face in for a kiss. Ignis can hear the sound of them, can hear Prompto moaning, can hear his own saliva as it slicks up Gladio’s cock and trails down his chin. 

He doesn’t fully understand this dynamic that they’re building, but he trusts them to show him the way, and they do. They show him that things can easily shift darker. Ignis likes that.


	2. Chapter 2

“Please.” Ignis gasps. “Gladio, oh my god, please.”

He’s bent over the edge of their bed, getting fucked from behind, and it hurts. He loves that it hurts. At this angle every thrust hits too deep, forcing too much into him and at too wrong an angle, and something about that makes it inherently right.

He begs because he’s supposed to, because Gladio will stop if he doesn’t.

“Don’t stop.” He forces out. “Please, I’m so close, I’m _right there_ , please don’t-“

Gladio clamps a hand down over the lower half of his face, over his mouth and his nose, effectively muffling the begging he’d told him he wanted to hear. Ignis feels like he can’t keep up; he feels like he doesn’t want to keep up.

Gladio doesn’t let him breathe again until his body feels warm and light, until he can’t even make muffled cries anymore, until as soon as he can get air in his lungs he takes it with deep, heavy gasps, slouching forward over the mattress, feeling weak.

He whimpers as Gladio tugs him back up by his hair, pressing his back to his chest. His eyes squeeze shut as he gets lost in it. He holds back pleas and cries. A deep-seated pleasure begins to build in him, and he lets it.

Then there’s the familiar feeling of someone else nearby, and the familiar, soft lilt of one particularly instigative blond. “Ooh, look at you.” He says, and Ignis knows that he’s speaking to him. He can feel Prompto’s weight as he drops down in bed and sprawls out, and he knows he’s being observed.

He opens his eyes just in time to see Prompto roll over and face him.

They’re just a few inches apart – they’re that close – and Ignis suddenly needs him. Prompto is in complete control, calm and collected, and Ignis is falling apart right in front of him.

“Do you want some extra attention?” Prompto asks, knowingly, mock sympathy on his face.

“ _Please_.” Ignis replies.

And Prompto glances up at Gladio, and sees something in his face that Ignis can’t, and then he cups Ignis’s face in both of his hands, leans in, and kisses him.

It isn’t a gentle kiss. His hands are holding Ignis in place, demanding his compliance, and Ignis does so easily. He opens his mouth to him, lets Prompto take as he pleases.

Then he hears a very familiar, very metallic noise – the sound of a gun, particularly its safety mechanism. It’s a sound he associates with Prompto, and one he probably wouldn’t recognize so quickly if it weren’t for him.

“I brought something for you.” Prompto says as the kiss breaks, and Ignis already knows what it is.

He still feels a sort of shock as cold metal presses against his jawline. He can feel it digging into him, pressing harder with each of Gladio’s rough, careless thrusts into him, ramming him forward into where Prompto holds the weapon against him.

“Feels good?” Prompto asks.

Ignis is sure that he knows it does. Still, he moans in affirmation.

“Why don’t you show me how much you love this.” Prompto suggests.

It’s the first time Ignis has ever had a gun near or in his mouth, and something about the danger – the helplessness – gets him off.

* * *

Ignis tries to flex his wrists in vain. They’re bound tightly above his head, secured to the bedframe, going nowhere until either Prompto or Gladio decides that they can.

He’s on his back, and Prompto is on his knees in between his spread legs, moaning as Gladio fucks him from behind. His head rests in Ignis’s lap and his hands are grasping his thighs, fingernails unkindly digging into his skin. Ignis can feel his breath, warm and heavy, against his legs.

Gladio’s holding Prompto in place by his hips, spreading him open with one hand, and Ignis watches the way Gladio violates him, the way his cock slides in and out of such a small, tight space.

Then he glances up, and Gladio meets his gaze, and when they meet it’s like Gladio’s telling him _I’ve done this exact same thing to you_.

Is that what it looks like?

Prompto’s whole body is rocking against Ignis’s legs. It looks like he can’t possibly take any more, yet every noise out of him is encouraging. His skin is flushed. Every so often his legs tremble, like the strain of having them spread so far for so long genuinely aches.

It’s the first time since this started that Ignis thinks of Prompto as submissive to anyone.

Prompto’s hands begin to stray from Ignis’s legs. One of them brushes against his cock for the first time, and Ignis feels his entire body tense in response. He hadn’t realized what just the sight of all this was doing to him, but now that he’s being touched it’s like he aches for it, like there’s nothing else he could possibly want more.

He moans. It encourages Prompto to take his cock in one hand, to prop himself up and press his tongue along the length of it. He feels hypersensitive.

Prompto doesn’t waste time. He just barely gets everything wet before he’s opening his mouth, taking Ignis’s cock all the way down to the base. He sets up a steady rhythm – even with everything Gladio is doing to him – and Ignis flexes his hands against his restraints again. He lets them dig into his wrists.

Prompto is moaning around Ignis’s cock, sending sharp vibrations across his throat, and he’s tight and soaking wet. He’s a natural distraction – pulling Ignis’s thoughts away from their daily pressures, their daily worries, until all he knows is this private world, just him and Prompto and Gladio and the forbidden, exciting things they do.


	3. Chapter 3

Prompto is good at reading people. It’s one of the things Ignis has (very recently) learned to appreciate about him the most, and he never passes up an opportunity to take advantage.

He thinks that Prompto must know. He figures it’s that way because every time they do this Prompto shifts the dynamic just a little bit, and yet somehow he’s always above him, always there to give him what he needs.

Someone so passive in daily life almost has no business being this dominant in bed. He thinks of all the ways in which he’d had no idea before this all started — all of the ways he’d been fooled by Prompto’s outward innocence.

Tonight he’s got Ignis in another vulnerable position, spread open for Gladio, sitting on his face. Ignis feels like he is still not used to this. He’s always surprised by how much he likes it.

He likes that slick wetness dragging across him, over and over, teasing but never quite enough. He likes the way it makes him feel a little anxious and exposed. He likes the way it leaves him so close to Prompto, who is currently sitting in Gladio’s lap and occupying his cock.

Gladio is too preoccupied with just _doing_ to focus on much else, too busy with the both of them, but Prompto doesn’t have that problem. Ignis can feel his skin burning hot at the thought of Prompto watching him, of being so seen.

Prompto’s right across from him, watching with faint curiosity. When he finally does something – reaching out to touch the side of his face – Ignis moans for it.

“You like this?” Prompto asks, his voice sweet and not at all what Ignis would expect to find as dominating as he does.

Ignis is trembling. He’s ungodly overstimulated. He’s already come once, and the longer this goes on the more he feels like it’ll happen again, pressure building and building as Gladio’s tongue works against him.

He never knows how to respond to Prompto like this, and he knows even less when he’s been on the verge of coming for the past ten minutes. He just nods. He feels like he can’t make words at all.

“Good.” Prompto replies, and there’s something in his tone – possibly affection. That hand moves to cup Ignis’s face, holding him there, and Ignis dares to look at Prompto then, locking eyes with those delicate baby blues. “You belong here, doing this.”

Ignis truly feels like he does.

Prompto leans in to kiss him, and Ignis enthusiastically meets him halfway. He moves with more urgency than he’d expected of himself. His hands tangle themselves in Prompto’s hair, tugging him as close as he can.

Prompto moans into it. Ignis can feel his pace speed up, can feel him grinding down harder against Gladio’s cock.

He gets lost in it. He only half notices Prompto reaching down, in between his legs, until one of his hands starts stroking him. The noise he makes in response – overstimulated and overwhelmed – isn’t particularly dignified.

Prompto's grip on him is tight, his pace fast. It’s a bit more than Ignis can take, beyond his limit, and all Prompto has to do is murmur “Come for me”, in between urgent, needy kisses, and Ignis falls apart on command.

He trembles and moans and comes all over Prompto’s fingers, all over Gladio’s chest, almost humiliated with the ease that they can take this from him.

Mostly he's exhausted, and he collapses back onto the bed as soon as he’s done getting off. That just leaves Prompto and Gladio to do their thing.

A month ago he’d have never imagined himself as able to fall asleep to the sound of them fucking – Prompto moaning and Gladio panting and the bed rocking with their motions – and yet he does just that, comfortably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My creativity comes in deeply spaced out bursts, and I can feel the end of this one coming on, so at this point I'm just writing what I can to maintain my pace. I know I normally post two scenes instead of one, and since I imagine I'll only be able to post one at a time for a while I've extended the chapter count to six -- more updates, just less words in each. Thanks for your patience!


	4. Chapter 4

“Ignis,” Prompto moans, “That feels _so good_.”

Prompto’s got his legs thrown up over Ignis’s shoulders, practically bent in half, and Ignis is bottoming out with each thrust into him.

Prompto’s grip on the belt loops of Ignis’s jeans helps. The way he tugs him in and dictates the pace helps.

Ignis leans forward and presses him mouth against Prompto’s, kissing him desperately, melting into the praise.

“I love this.” Prompto breathes in between one kiss breaking and another beginning, and it’s close enough to _I love you_ , close enough to that validation that Ignis so desperately needs. He presses his tongue into Prompto’s mouth, and Prompto allows him that small amount of control.

The kiss doesn’t break until Gladio tugs Prompto’s head back, pale blond hair balled up in his fist. Prompto goes so willingly, opening his mouth and pressing his tongue where Gladio guides it against the seat of his lap, licking his cock through the fabric of his underwear.

Prompto’s moaning again, and Ignis can feel him clamping down around his cock, impatient, needy.

He watches as Gladio pushes his underwear down. He watches him press his way down Prompto’s throat in deep, unforgiving thrusts, and watches the way that Prompto takes it all the way to the base. He sounds muffled, his lips closed tight around Gladio’s cock, his legs spreading even further between Ignis’s shoulders.

For a second, he looks submissive again.

Ignis doesn’t know how long that Prompto and Gladio have been playing this game with each other, but it’s like they have the give and take of it all figured out.

Prompto’s pushing Ignis around like a toy, his insides twitching and spasming like he’s on the verge of coming, and the entire time he’s handling Gladio with ease.

He feels Prompto tugging his hips in harder, slowing the pace down. He’s trying to make it last, probably trying to make it hurt, and by the sound of him he’s succeeding.

Ignis helps him out a bit, pushing back into him just as hard – harder than Prompto can force from him – and Prompto whimpers around Gladio’s cock.

If he could speak, Ignis knows he’d have some filthy kind of praise in mind, something about how well he fucks him, about how deep he's buried in him and how good that must feel.

Gladio’s thrusting into the back of Prompto’s throat, and Ignis can see spit soaking his cock, trailing down Prompto’s cheeks and the curve of his neck.

Then he pulls out. He takes his cock in one hand and strokes it almost absentmindedly, keeping Prompto pinned down by his hair with the other hand.

“Should I come down your throat or on your face?” He asks, weighing both options, and Ignis doesn’t think by Gladio’s tone that the choice is really Prompto’s to make.

“Gladio, _please_.” Prompto begs. “Please, anywhere, I need it.”

It’s the first time Ignis has heard Prompto beg for anything.

“Good boy.”

Gladio rewards him by pushing back into his mouth, fucking into that wet heat with shallow thrusts, and Prompto frees up one of his hands to stroke along the length of what isn’t in him. It doesn't last long, his pace fast, Prompto working hard to get Gladio off.

Gladio comes in Prompto’s mouth instead of down his throat, making sure that he can taste it, and he treats Prompto like an object when he’s done. There’s no praise; no aftercare. He simply lets go of his hair and readjusts his clothes, and then it’s just Prompto and Ignis again, back to playing their own game.

Prompto’s legs are trembling where they rest on Ignis’s shoulders, and when Ignis leans in to kiss him he gladly returns the affection.

Ignis can taste Gladio on him, and he doesn’t mind. He presses his tongue back into Prompto’s mouth, running a hand through his hair where it’d been so violently tugged on just moments before.

“Ignis,” Prompto moans, and Ignis feels him clamping down tight, his back arching. “I love you.”

Ignis marvels at how quickly the roles can change between the three of them – how flexible things are, and how different that is from the stringent reality he’s been raised to know. He thinks that he loves him, too; that he loves this entire dynamic.


End file.
